Married to the Work
by Darth Videtur
Summary: She didn't even know him, and they wanted her to...? It wasn't real! It all had to be a bad dream, but the pit in the center of her stomach told her otherwise. A slightly AU co-authored story with myself and DarthRuinous.
1. Surprises for Everyone

**Videtur: Welcome to a co-story written between me and my dear friend, Darth Ruinous! I begged and pleaded until DR agreed to write a Palpatine/OC story with me. The original character's PoV is my work, and Palpatine's is DR's. Please enjoy, and leave a review! Let us know what you think! *cue shameless puppy eyes***

Chapter One: Surprise, Surprise!

x-x-x-x

"You did what?!" Namita might have said much more, but her father abruptly stood from his chair and stalked toward her, eyes flaring. She clamped her jaw shut and backed down immediately, but her submission came far too late.

Kwilaan Malik's eyebrows twisted and furrowed above his deep set green eyes, eyes that he shared with his daughter. He stood over her chair and glared down. "You might show a little gratitude, you know. I've gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange this for you."

The thought sparked her rebellion once more, and clenching her hands around the fine wood, she demanded, "For me? When I wasn't even consulted?" Even then, she didn't dare to meet his eyes as she spoke.

Malik rumbled an unpleasant sound. "You weren't consulted precisely because I knew you would react this way. You don't know what's best for you, my daughter."

"What I don't know is him," Namita studied the gleaming white tiles of the floor, but they stubbornly refused to help her. She finally glanced back up in the tense silence and met her father's gaze. "I don't know him, Father, and from what little I've heard, I don't want to know him."

"His record is spotless, Nami," her mother lifted her slender, perfect hands helplessly from where she sat at the other end of the long table. One of the servants approached, confused, and she waved him off. "Not you. He hails from one of the oldest, most established noble families of Naboo. Why, he might even be King, someday, if the gods favor him."

"I don't want a king," Namita started and then bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood and stop the angry words from following. "I want someone that I can get to know on my own terms, in my own way." She looked to her beautiful mother, pleading with her eyes.

Charis only laughed, a bell-like sound that Namita normally loved, but now she loathed it. "Arranged marriages are nothing new, Nami. Your father and I met through our parents, and it turned out very well. You'll get to know him in time, but you must be patient."

The young woman dropped her gaze to the food on her plate and stared at the slices of shurra fruit neatly arranged and drizzled with a condensed blossom wine dressing. She could barely see them for the wet sheen that was forming under her lids. The fire drained from her, the exhaustion pouring into her veins and leaving her boneless. "Will you please reconsider? I'll give up my art. I'll go into music, Father, or, or engineering! I'll even stop writing to Master Swani –"

He shook his head, cutting her off, and returned to his chair, slumping into it as though he had caught her sudden lethargy. His frown smoothed into a studiously blank expression. "No, no, it's much too late for that. The deal has been made, Nami. We must honor our word."

 _I'm not the one who gave it._ Namita lifted her head toward him in one last desperate grasp for her freedom. "And what about _him_? Does he even want to be saddled with someone like me, or is he in the dark about this as much as I was?"

"Ars Veruna has assured me that everything is taken care of on that front," her father said, the severe wrinkles at the edges of his mouth softening with faint affection. "Besides, he'll be lucky if he realizes what an arrangement he's getting. Our family is not without its noble history. This match could make us great again."

Namita felt the beginning of harsh tears in the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. _This isn't fair, but then life's not fair, is it? What have you done to me, Father?_ But she did not know what else could be done. He always got his way.

Suddenly, she could not stand the gleaming pity in her mother's eyes or her father's solemn silence, and she pushed back her chair and stood, the sound scraping loudly in the long room. "Excuse me…" she whispered and fled, her long gown billowing out behind her.

When she reached her room on the second floor, she dashed aside the painting on her bed and collapsed onto it with a sharp sob. "I won't do it!" she snarled at the row of sculptures aligned on the far wall, but she knew she lied, because the minute her father stood before her, she would fold to his wishes just like she always did. _You're twenty-eight years old, and you live under your father's roof, almost as penniless as the day you were born._ Because of that, her arguments with her father carried no weight when he could simply turn her away and prove her own folly to her.

" _There is no place for a modern artist on Naboo. You know our people appreciate the classic forms,"_ he told her once, nearly seven years ago when she had been a bright and enterprising university student. However, too easily swayed by the carefree spirits of her artist friends, she pursued her life passions only to find at the end that all of her friends had substantial inheritances to rely on in tough times. She had her parents, and they took her back. _I should be grateful,_ she thought rubbing her hand over her eyes.

Speak of the gods, and they would appear, and she heard her mother tapping gently at her door. "Come in," she said and wiped at the tears on her sharp cheekbones.

Charis Malik moved graciously, no matter where she went. Her back stately and straight, she drifted to the side of the bed and perched along the edge like a delicate bird. Her long fingers stretched out and stroked along the dark brown hair of her daughter. "My dear, we know you are upset by this news. If only we could have told you some other way, but you needed to know."

"Mother," she whimpered and reached out, and Charis gathered her into her arms with a soft and soothing cluck. "I don't understand," Namita sniffed into the warm embrace. "I've not even met him before."

"Shhh, darling girl," Charis said. "You know why. Your father is determined to advance in this next election round. Ars Veruna has offered him that path. And you will have a chance to meet him before the marriage. Veruna has temporarily recalled him from Coruscant."

If her mother was trying to comfort her, it was not working. Namita pulled away. "How am I supposed to just accept this, Mother? I've lived my whole life free, and now I'm to be joined to a man I've never met?"

"Perhaps we were too indulgent with you," Charis sighed. She noticed the painting on the floor and reached down and picked it up, soothing one of the wrinkled edges with an absent gesture. "You were always so bold, so free. Your father and I liked that about you, but we didn't realize what it might do to your future chances."

"A husband is not the end-all of life, Mother," she protested.

Charis grinned without humor. "And neither is a career as a modern artist, Nami. Whether you believe us or not, this will help you. We won't always be here to provide for you, you know. Our house is impoverished of monetary value."

The thought of her parents gone proved too much to bear, and she shook her head. "I can make it on my own. I just need the chance…"

"It's done, my dear. Your father's mind is quite made up." Namita watched her mother rise from the bed and move to the door. She paused in the frame, the light from the hall leaving her in a cold silhouette. Namita shivered when Charis took a deep breath. "You'll make it, Namita. We all have. It's a matter of perspective. Please try to find some before your father loses his patience."

Namita nodded, perfectly miserable, and Charis disappeared into the hallway.

x-x-x-x

The antique and priceless statue crashed to the floor with a push of his mind, and he indulged in a sharp snarl of displeasure, rending it into a dozen more pieces with the Force before his ire cooled enough to gather his thoughts. The honorable Senator Palpatine had barricaded himself deep within his apartment in Theed upon learning of this unexpected development. Ars Veruna, the greedy simpleton, had seen fit to contact Palpatine and recall him from Coruscant for an "important decision." He soon discovered that the decision had already been made. Arriving expecting some sort of political maneuver, Palpatine found himself speechless when the true motive became clear.

 _A wife… a wife?_ How in all of Korriban? He kicked the broken statue with savage force and watched the chunks spin down the long hallway into the shadows of the bedroom beyond. This simply would not do. He paced after the littered pieces, the lights of the apartment flickering on as they registered his presence. The Maliks were so far beneath his notice, he barely knew of them. What possessed Veruna to commit to such a mad scheme without first consulting Naboo's senator? Was this Veruna's ill-advised attempt to put him in his place?

The com clenched in his left hand sounded a low beep, and he activated it. The long and pale face of Magister Hego Damask swam into focus. Palpatine had not seen him in person since a month after the assassination attempt four years ago, and he looked little better by holo, his face drawn and narrower than ever, breathing mask bulky and obtrusive over his jaw and mouth. "Master…" Palpatine hissed. "We have a situation here."

The Muun's gaze wandered over the face of his apprentice. Finally, the transpirator clicked into action, emitting a series of tones, and what was left of his voice rumbled over the com's transmission. "I was deep in my research, Lord Sidious. I trust you have a good reason for contacting me."

Palpatine pushed away his irritation with ruthless self-control. "I think it merits your attention. It certainly got mine. Veruna did something very foolish."

"Veruna?" Plagueis's sunken eyes widened with faint surprise. Faked or not, Palpatine did not bother to guess.

"Yes, he's evidently gotten impatient with our promises and is angling to create his own, independent support. He's reached out to the Malik family."

Plagueis titled his long head. "Malik?"

"One of the lesser noble families, Master. Enough so that I did not foresee any importance." He would never assume again with the lowlifes of Naboo. "Veruna feels that Malik's support will bring over two dozen of the lesser nobles to his side in the coming election. I find it difficult to believe that, but he was quite smug on that front."

"Too smug," Plagueis inferred across subspace. "He is sending us another message."

Palpatine nodded. "I look forward to the day when he realizes just who is in control here."

"That day is not yet arrived," Plagueis warned softly. "Be mindful, Lord Sidious, and do not let your anger distract you from your purpose."

Palpatine ducked his head. "Of course, I apologize. Regardless, Veruna has demanded that, in return for this paltry political support, I am to marry the eldest daughter of the Maliks. Master, that's simply not possible! Our work will not permit –" he stopped when Plagueis raised a hand into view.

"Marry? Truly…" the Muun mused quietly, barely coming through on the transmission. Palpatine felt the Force tremble in reply to silent query. He waited until Plagueis spoke again. "This is unexpected but not impossible, my apprentice."

 _Are you –_ Palpatine buried the errant, irreverent thought deep and said instead, slowly, calmly, drawing the false veneer effortlessly close, "I do not understand. The delicate nature of our situation makes domestic ties a nuisance at best, a compromising danger at worst. If I am married, my life will become more public than it already is."

Plagueis continued as if Palpatine had agreed with him. "Which may benefit us in the long run. A wife will lend your public persona a softer side, Lord Sidious, winning the hearts of the more sentimental fools among us."

"But my traveling, my missions…" Palpatine protested.

"Are growing fewer and fewer with each passing year, as you insinuate yourself into the upper levels of the Senate," Plagueis nodded. "Your training ground lies in the Senate chambers now, Lord Sidious, not on the distant worlds of Sith legend as it did when you were Ambassador. In fact, she may even prove useful in the field of diplomacy. Often, spouses are the power behind other beings. She may provide you with additional insight."

Did Plagueis even now seek to rein in his apprentice, to prevent him from furthering his knowledge in the ways of the ancient Sith masters? Palpatine wondered but kept his opinions to himself. "And she may interfere. My privacy will be greatly limited in this, Master."

"Then you will have to improvise," Plagueis said. "And if she becomes too troublesome, then she will merely become a tragedy that only increases sympathy for you in the Senate."

"A heartbroken but determined widower," Palpatine allowed slowly. "It would work…"

"Then I see no reason not to let Veruna continue believing that he is in charge," Plagueis turned and gestured toward something just outside the holo's frame of reference. "Put it there, please." He looked back at Palpatine. "He is not yet useless to us. Consequently, I extend my congratulations on your approaching nuptials, Senator Palpatine. I regret that I will not be able to attend in person."

"I'll keep you apprised," Palpatine promised and watched as the transmission faded away. Anger still festered in his heart, creating a slow burn that galled him, but the issue was moot, anyway. Plagueis would not be open to further discussion.

His thoughts wandered briefly to the unknown factor, the woman herself. Would she be intelligent or insipid? Ambitious or withdrawn? Then he decided, it really did not matter as long as she stayed out of his way. For woe to her if she did otherwise. He straightened his mussed tunic and turned back to the main living quarters with one last, indulgent, vengeful kick at the shattered statue. He might as well find out what he could before he met his future bride.

 _Force_ …

x-x-x-x

 **DarthRuinous: Well, my friend has me conspiring on a Palpatine/OC story at last. I daresay this could be quite an adventure. The story is set in 48 BBY, two years before Veruna becomes King and when Palpatine is a relatively fresh senator and 34 years old. Since I'm the one in charge of editing, apologies for any typos or mistakes found within.**


	2. First Impressions

**Videtur: Thanks so much to everyone who has commented and fav/followed! We'd love to continue to hear what you think or suggestions you might have. DR told me about the private reply to reviews function, so I will try to answer each person who leaves a review! Enjoy the next chapter!**

Chapter Two: Introductions

"Niki, give that back!" Namita hissed while reaching for the pale paint stick that her oldest nephew now waved back and forth, his small face glowing with smug satisfaction.

"Why?" he said. "Shouldn't you show him what he's getting? If it rains, your face will fall off." The seven year old took perverse pleasure in driving her to insanity, she would swear it before the city council.

"It's waterproof, you little goblin," she growled without anger, struggling to hold back her smile, "I don't have time for this."

Niki danced out of reach of her sudden lunge and laughed. "You don't have much time at all, Namita Palpatine."

"Not yet! And probably not ever if you insist I go out there half done," she sighed. "Niki, this is important. You know how much your grandfather wants this to go well."

He sobered immediately at the mention of Kwilaan Malik. Slowly he stretched out his hand and dropped the stick into her open palm. "I know, Nami. I was only joking."

She tugged him close for a tight hug and smiled. "I know you live for jokes, Niki, but this is one of those times that isn't for joking. We have to be…" she stared into the beautiful brown eyes, brushed his nose with one finger, and frowned. "…completely serious."

They lost it and laughed together. The knot of fear in her chest eased for a brief moment. She wrapped her arms around him, ignoring his small squawks of protest. "If only I could bring my brave little warrior along with me, then I wouldn't need to worry."

Niki grinned. "Well, if he gives you trouble, tell me and I'll send him down to Chaos."

"Don't say that!" she exclaimed, appalled, and poked him hard enough to evoke a squeal. "Where on Naboo did you hear that?"

"His father, probably."

The stiff formality of the voice that intruded into their interlude brought Namita's head up quickly. Her younger sister by four years stood in the room's doorframe, regal and tall. She resembled their mother perfectly, down to the coiffed hair and the sharp jawline set with a faint, imperturbable smirk. Marme, married since her early teen years, was the pride and joy of their parents, having settled down with a wealthy young nobleman closely connected to the plasma mining. Sometimes Namita felt lucky that Marme even spoke to her when she had so much else to consider.

"Sister," Namita inclined her head respectfully.

"Sister," Marme rejoined and held out her hand. Niki slipped away from her side and joined his mother. Already, he nearly reached her shoulder in height. Marme had always been petite and well-proportioned, unlike gangly and long Namita, whose sudden growth spurt in her late teens had bestowed a lack of grace that still peeked through the results of her finishing school education now and then.

She looked away from them both, doing her best to ignore the pang of jealously under her sternum. Marme and her husband Lodok Mereen were made for each other, both beautiful, both social and well connected to the noble families of Naboo. Unlike her. She reached for the pink blush, but another hand intercepted and picked it up. Namita glanced up at Marme, who finally cracked a faint smile and motioned to her to turn. Niki had disappeared from the room, and now Marme's formal exterior was beginning to melt.

"I think my hands are steadier right now," Marme said.

Namita looked down and saw that, yes, her hands shook with tiny tremors. She nodded and turned with a small, "Thank you, Marme."

Her sister leaned in, eyes fixing on her new task which she applied with streamlined efficiency. "You know, believe it or not, Nami, I have been praying that this day would come for you, and now that it's here, I can hardly believe it. The Senator of Naboo, that's quite a peko-peko feather in your hat."

Namita reached forward and seized her sister's left hand, stilling it. "Do you know anything about him?"

"Lodok spoke with him once before at the Royal Palace, several years ago," Marme smiled. "He got the impression that Senator Palpatine is a bit of a loner. He turned down a gathering that evening, and Lodok said he claimed he was still mourning the death of Vidar Kim and wouldn't be good company."

"Do you believe that?" Namita asked.

"Hard to say," Marme shrugged. "Hardly anyone actually knows him. He lost his whole family in some sort of accident when he was young."

"Oh."

Marme placed the finishing touches on her older sister's face. "It made him quite wealthy, evidently. He traveled across the galaxy as our Ambassador before replacing Senator Kim. Some people say he was trying to escape his tragic past." She sighed dramatically. "Dark and brooding, just like a fairy tale, hm?"

"I hope not," Namita whispered. "I don't need a fairy tale. I just need to know if he'll… if… I don't know what I want."

Marme swept to her feet, setting aside the applicator and extending her hands. "Well, while you are making up your mind, he's downstairs with our parents and Lodok."

"What!?" Namita leapt up, knocking her chair back with a loud clatter. She hurried to her far dresser and shakily attached the pearlstone necklace around her throat. "Why didn't you tell me as soon as you came in?"

Marme smirked. "I'm sure Father is keeping him well entertained, and besides, any woman worth her spices knows how to make a man wait."

Namita looked at herself in the mirror. Marme had done an excellent job, and she resembled the finest nobility of Naboo. Why, the intricacy of her pale face and red markings might even rival any Queen's, in perfection if not in significance. If her own face didn't lurk beneath. She forced a small smile to her lips as Marme joined her at the mirror. "I'm not sure I can do this, Sister."

"You can and you will. You know Father will have it no other way," Marme shrugged. "Best to make the most of it, Nami. Come on, I will take you down to them."

Namita did not remember leaving her bedroom or starting down the long staircase that curved down into the main entryway. She did not remember slipping through the long stone hallway to the main living quarters. She did remember the moment that Marme pulled her to a stop just before they entered.

"Look," Marme whispered, motioning around the doorframe.

She looked.

The Senator of Naboo stood in profile speaking with her father, who was laughing loudly at some comment. Her future husband was not conventionally handsome like the other young Naboo noblemen who had sought her hand before discovering that she could offer no dowry of worth. His height was average, or perhaps a little less, and his arms were long in proportion to his torso. His face was thin, overshadowed in its lesser features by a great beak of a nose that almost made her want to snicker. She ruthlessly shoved the urge down. He possessed no athletic build under the elaborate robes, but she was pleased to note that he was not fat, not at all. In fact, if she had to describe him, she might almost use the word 'fragile,' noting the slenderness of his wrists and fingers.

She sensed, though, that he was far from that. The way he held himself projected confidence, an easy assurance and entitlement like every noble on Naboo affected to carry, but his felt real to her awareness. Too real, and she worried, _Will he be cruel?_

She backed away from the door, leaned against it and smoothed the silky gown over her legs and hips and bit at her lip. "Stop fussing," Marme said. "You are far more beautiful than him."

"That's not saying much," Namita said and felt a twinge of regret. He couldn't help his looks any more than she could. She really ought to be kinder to her future husband.

Marme pressed her hand. "Are you ready to meet him?"

 _Gods, no._ "Yes."

"Then let's go." Marme pushed her forward in the small of her back, and Namita stepped into the large room. Her father noticed her first, and he turned with a wide, artificial smile, the one he used on all politicians that he thought might be useful someday. "Ah, my daughters arrive at last. Come in, my dears."

Lodok Mereen stepped forward and took Marme's hand in his muscular grip, leading his wife several steps to the side and leaving Namita alone to continue towards the two waiting men. She forced her head high and made herself take smaller, stately steps. All she really wanted was to run from the stifling room, which seemed ten meters longer than ever before. On the small diva, her mother watched with sharp, approving eyes.

She realized with embarrassment that she stood a small amount taller than him, and she felt her shoulders slouching in a desperate attempt to compensate, sneaking a glance up. His reddish hair was long and pulled back in traditional fashion at the nape of his neck. His thin mouthed stayed perfectly straight, betraying nothing of his thoughts, whatever he thought of her. _Probably not much. Is he upset at being kept waiting?_

But her father was speaking. "Namita, may I present Senator Palpatine. Senator, my daughter Namita Malik."

He glanced into her eyes then, and she started at the intensity in their watery pale depths, then he was looking down in a deep and traditional bow, complete with the ancient flourish of the noble houses. "My lady Malik, it is my singular honor."

His voice! If his looks failed to impress, then his erudite tones compensated well. Namita drank in the sentence, noting that his accent was neither Naboo or Coruscanti in origin, but somewhere in between. A transitional, heady stage, and she remembered that he had been Senator for four years already. Such a worldly match for her, she who had never departed the safety of Theed and its outlying districts. How would this ever work?

The silence grew deafening, and she realized that she was openly staring. The Senator possessed a decidedly fixed smile at this point, still half-bowing and politely waiting for her to respond.

"Oh! No, please, it is mine." She wanted to kick herself, to disappear into the ground. That wasn't the right response, not at all. "I mean, I bid you welcome, Senator." At least her curtsy was well done, if a bit shaky.

Palpatine straightened.

x-x-x-x

 _An insipid pool of frightened timidity_. He kept his expression perfectly neutral, but his thoughts refused to lie quietly. _I am to marry this?_ He had watched as she entered the room, flighty as a spooked quadduck on a hunt. Even her billowing gown reminded him of the flapping wings. She drifted quickly across the room and came to stand before her father, though she did not meet his patriarchal gaze. Instead, she glanced at Palpatine under her dark lashes, her oval face unnaturally pale with the thick layers of traditional Naboo artifice.

Palpatine had never liked Naboo's fixation on all things traditional. Change was a concept that came slowly and with much difficulty to his people. With his help, they would soon see the errors of their ways, but now was not that time. He turned to Kwilaan Malik and smiled. "Your daughter exceeds your descriptions of her, Kwilaan." _Exceeds in underwhelming me, that is._ Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her break into a small, nervous smile.

Kwilaan beamed. "Yes, she is quite beautiful, and I know she will be an excellent match to you, Senator. I am pleased that _you_ are pleased."

Palpatine offered a stiff half bow from the waist to the older man, then turned more fully to face his intended bride. "I would be far more greatly pleased if I could have the pleasure of your attendance tomorrow, my lady. Upon my return from Coruscant, my colleagues pressed me into a twirrling. The outing would be far more agreeable in your delightful company." Away from the prying eyes of her father, he would be free to form his judgment, to look at her with the all-seeing eyes of darkness. _To know just how long I might be able to endure her presence in this farce of a marriage._

He observed how her eyes instantly flitted to her father's face, asking permission or maybe asking for a sanctioned denial. At Kwilaan's slight nod, she turned back to him. "I, I would be very honored to accompany you, Senator." She sounded far from pleased. Apprehension soaked her entire presence in the Force, which was surprisingly bright.

There would be more time to peruse this observation tomorrow, he decided. He allowed his smile to grow. "Well, then, it is settled. We shall be departing for the western plains in the morning, my lady. We'll be here at dawn."

"I look forward to it," she said. She appeared so remote then, so rigid, that he was slightly impressed by her self-control. Perhaps there was a spine somewhere under all the fear, after all.

"I beg your pardon, my friend," he said at last to Kwilaan, "but my presence has been requested at the Palace today. I must now take my leave and attend our King."

"Of course," Kwilaan replied. "You are a busy and influential man, Senator. I look forward to meeting again and carrying forward our mutual arrangements."

"As do I," Palpatine nodded, ignoring the older man's blatant flattery and offering a polite bow to the rest of the family members. Lodok Mereen inclined his head. At Kwilaan's wave, a servant materialized from the shadows and motioned Palpatine to follow him. He did, casting no glance behind. He could feel her in the Force clearly enough, a timid quavering that annoyed his own balance. _I'll be fortunate if I don't kill her tomorrow._

x-x-x-x

 **DarthRuinous: Palpatine, old boy, no killing the bride before you're married, you know that. He's marrying into a rather unique family. The reunions are going to be fun times… Apologies for any typos or mistakes found within. Read and review!**


	3. Getting to Know You

**Videtur: Thanks to everyone who has favorited or followed, or left a review on the story! We love hearing from you. Nami would also like to thank those of you who are feeling sorry for her, lol. She needs a lot of sympathy!**

Chapter Three: Getting to Know You

Dawn on Naboo often staggered its residents and visitors alike with its beautiful smears of golden and pink sky, bathing the domed roofs in a magical glow. Namita barely noticed today. She tugged fruitlessly at the riding tunic, straightening it over her hips and glancing back at Marme. Her sister stood in the courtyard's wide doorway, Niki wrapped in her arms, mother and son both content in the gentle warmth of the morning.

Namita could not feel the same heat and shivered. "I'm not sure I remember how to ride a gualama," she admitted. "It's been years, Marme."

"It will come back to you, Sister," Marme said. "Just don't panic."

"Panic?" Namita started to demand, but then her ears caught the distant droning of several powerful engines, and her eyes spotted a small convoy of triple-finned speeders coming down the long drive. Each speeder carried two or three human figures, both male and female. She could hear laughter now too, carried on the gentle wind. A merry gathering, and one she was expected to join. _Could Marme go instead?_ she thought and inwardly laughed at her own cowardice.

As the guests drew closer and began to decelerate the engines, she spotted Senator Palpatine behind the yoke of the second, brightly colored speeder. He was smiling and saying something to the man in the passenger seat, who looked to be roughly his age or a little older. Namita took a deep breath when the speeders stopped at the bottom of the long stone steps. _I can do this. I have to do this._

Nimbly, Palpatine slid out of the driver's seat and dropped to the ground, his knee-high riding boots clicking against the aged cobblestones. He too was dressed in the traditional riding garments of Naboo nobility, the masculine counterpart to her own outfit, with flared trousers and an almost military cut to the tunic. Namita thought it fit his trim figure very well, and then blushed at the thought. His companions also climbed out but remained with the speeder as he mounted the steps.

"Lady Malik," he bowed when he reached her. "Are you well?"

"I am very well," she smiled, and he smiled suddenly in return, his teeth white and straight. The casual gesture loosened the tightness in her chest. A little bit. She swallowed. "And you?"

"Quite well, and quite grateful to be back on Naboo for this short reprieve," he said. His tone was friendly, open, something he might say to anyone he met. His thoughts about her and this whole mad situation were obviously buried deep under his political training. Namita tried to get a reading on his emotions and found nothing there.

She also wondered for a moment why he did not turn and greet her sister, but when she glanced back to the doorway, Marme had disappeared along with her son. Her little sister had abandoned her!

Senator Palpatine studied her closely. "Shall we get started, then? Or do you need more time?"

"Oh, no, I'm perfectly ready," she lied and nearly froze when he extended his gloved hand to her. He lingered, a mercurial smile fading from his thin lips. Namita jolted herself into action at last, taking his hand in her own and letting him guide her down the steps to the waiting speeders.

One of his companions stepped forward, a Naboo perhaps in his mid twenties, with classic good features but already beginning to go bald along his forehead. He flashed a smile, flirtatious and appreciative, and offered a deep bow. "Palpatine has not done you justice, Lady Malik! Or perhaps he only wanted to keep you hidden away."

The Senator sighed theatrically. "May I present Kinman Doriana, a member of my staff on Coruscant and a man who thinks far too highly of his own influence among the fairer gender."

Kinman Doriana laughed loudly, a sharp bark that startled her, and she instinctively stepped closer to Palpatine. "Pleased to meet you," she managed.

"The feeling is definitely mutual," Doriana said, still smiling and drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. Palpatine frowned slightly and led her past his grinning friend to two more waiting near the back of the speeder. "This is my political advisor, Sate Pestage, and Ambassador Bromlin, recently announced to the position." Pestage looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties, and he possessed a thin, hawk-like face with beady dark eyes and a permanent furrow in his brow. He nodded to her, showing none of the interest that Doriana had displayed, and she was grateful for his professionalism. Ambassador Bromlin was young and starry-eyed, and he seemed more fixated on Palpatine himself rather than his introduction to her. She was fine with that, wanting no more attention than strictly necessary.

"May I?" Palpatine proffered his arm, and she took it as she climbed into the passenger seat of the speeder. Sate Pestage, who had been sitting there, slid without a word into the back with the other two politicians. As Palpatine settled comfortably into the driver's seat, she felt the engine roar to life under her, the vibrations and deep sound filling the air. He said something, and she missed it.

He leaned closer and raised his voice. "You might want to belt in, my lady. We have a great deal of ground to cover, and time is fleeting."

By the time they arrived on the edge of the game grounds, she was thankful for the safety harness around her shoulders. If she had discovered one thing about her future husband today, it was the fact that Palpatine had a need for speed. Simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying, their trip out into the western plains resembled a racing course more than any leisurely outing. The other speeders had fallen far behind in the hands of more cautious drivers, but Palpatine's expression as he skimmed expertly over the plains and around obstacles was the closest she had yet seen to genuine contentment.

Doriana whooped in pleasure when the speeder drifted to a stop, slapping the backs of Pestage and Bromlin, both of whom looked a little green around the cheeks. "You haven't lived until you've ridden with this son of a –" He stopped at a sharp look from Palpatine and finished sheepishly, "with the Senator."

Namita glanced at Palpatine and saw that he was watching her closely, his expression perfectly blank as though waiting for something. Her reaction? She forced a smile. "It was very enjoyable, I've never gone that fast before."

His pale eyes flickered, but he said only, "I like to keep things interesting." _What does he see in me?_

He vaulted over the side of the speeder and came around to her side, offering his hand as she stepped out. Suddenly, over a dozen lean greysors were leaping around their feet, barking sharply, long tails lashing against their boots. The eager hunting primates, distinctive for their long tusk-like teeth, belonged to the game groundskeeper, Larrs Beckon, who billeted over thirty of the finest specimens to be found in Theed. He also stocked the lodge with perfectly trained twirrls and elegant gualamas. His operation was well known to every noble family on Naboo; even the monarchs had hunted his fields and lakes in the past.

Palpatine waved their panting, furry admirers away. He noticed that Namita had been backed up against the speeder by the largest manadept greysor, her hands trembling in front of her, and he put his boot against the narrow back and firmly shoved. The greysor hissed and skittered out of reach, large eyes regarding the human cautiously. "You can't give them anything," he told her, "or they'll take everything. But they are fairly harmless."

Namita did not sense any cruelty from him in that moment, only a calm and dispassionate observation of what he clearly regarded as the truth. Did he feel that way about more than greysors? "I see," she finally replied and followed him into the open, columned courtyard of the domed hunting lodge. The other three men followed, laughing, and the greysors trailed out behind in a gibbering mob. She could see the other speeders in the distance, finally catching up.

As they waited for the others to arrive, Doriana, Pestage, and Bromlin disappeared into the lodge to find nourishment and drink. Palpatine remained outside with her, but he drifted along the inner wall before stopping in front of a low fountain, watching the water spill over the stone face of a scowling tusk-cat. Namita moved to stand beside him, steeling her nerves. If he was not talkative, did that mean she needed to fill in for him? Or would she be better off silent as well?

He somehow sensed her discomfort, or it felt that way, for he turned slightly and said, "I apologize if my driving frightened you."

Namita knew a flush was spreading across her cheeks. "It didn't. I just, I've… My father has never let us drive like that before. I was unprepared." She winced at how infantile she sounded, how dependent and naïve, and she finished quickly, "but I liked it."

He raised one thick eyebrow. "Really?"

She was not certain, to be honest, but she nodded. _I think you'll have to learn to like it._

His face softened, and the distant wariness disappeared. "Well, I must admit, any time I get the chance to depart Theed, I may move faster than normal."

She was unprepared for that as well. "You dislike Theed?" she asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. He trailed one hand through the gentle fall of the fountain and watched the water flow over his fingers.

"Theed is a city of many people and many ideas, many… pretensions. Out here in the wild, things are simpler. More straightforward, as it were. I suppose I am what you might call a minimalist," he admitted with a self-deprecating smile.

"You are?" Her jaw dropped slightly.

He looked up from the disrupted water. "That surprises you?"

Namita wanted to disappear into the ground, but the tiles would not accommodate her. She said at last, "Well, not many nobles of Naboo would admit to that."

His eyes narrowed. "You will find I set my own expectations in most matters."

 _Oh_. _That's comforting… I'm guessing he has expectations for his wife, too._ She looked down at her feet, embarrassed and thrown off by the abrupt coolness in his voice, and she cast about desperately for a safe topic of conversation. "So, did you grow up here in Theed?"

He paused. "On the far outskirts, the Lake Country, actually."

Hadn't Marme said something about that last night? "Your family's ancestral home is there, isn't it?"

"Yes." His eyes hardened infinitesimally, and for the first time she felt it, a cold anger that was not directed at her but deeply unsettling in its intensity. His fingers trailed in the water, seemingly forgotten.

 _I think I felt safer with that greysor back there,_ Namita thought, her mouth going dry and her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.

And then the moment was gone.

His smile betrayed nothing of the tightness in his eyes, and she could imagine that he was perfectly happy, but imagination was not reality. "It was called Convergence. I sold it several years ago. To be frank, I spent little of my time there as my schooling required me to move often."

"I see," she said, for lack of anything else.

He met her tentative gaze and nodded. "But enough about me, what about you?"

x-x-x-x

Already the little half-wit sought to pry into his past, something he and Hego Damask took great care to safeguard. She possessed no inkling of the danger she courted, asking these questions and raising old ghosts to life. Thanks to Darth Plagueis, he could look back on the shuttle incident with clinical calm, but mention of Convergence still stoked the passionate anger buried deep inside, still sparked the dying embers of his hot rage.

Soon, it too would cool into glacial purpose, but too many memories still surged into his thoughts when he pictured the old, cold mansion dwelling, the haunts who had once dwelt there. He forced the images deep under his surface. "Have you always lived in Theed?" he asked, but he already knew the answer thanks to an evening of research with Sate Pestage.

The young noblewoman nodded, her cheeks turning bright red. Was she ashamed of it? "Yes, I'm afraid I'm not very well traveled."

"It matters little," he told her. _In fact, your naivety could prove quite useful in some ways._

"Thank you, Senator." She looked like she wanted to say more, but the others were pouring into the courtyard in a medley of shouts and laughter, and he was soon surrounded by colleagues seeking to take his hand in friendship. He watched Namita slink away to the side, content to go unnoticed. _She has no ambition._ The idea was alien to him, repellent. She would not challenge him, but neither would she interest him unless she were hiding some part of herself away. He opened his senses to the Force then, sliding tendrils of his dark power along the currents even as he smiled and clapped Bromlin's shoulder in camaraderie.

Her magnitude within the Force rippled the currents around her no more than most of her fellow Naboo who swarmed the courtyard, but her presence burned brighter. He pondered at that. _Is she perhaps slightly Force-sensitive?_ He tugged on one of the ethereal tides that eddied around her and received almost nothing in return. Perplexed, he tried again, but the Dark Side remained stubbornly silent.

Deciding against further pressure, he turned his mind back to the profane world around him in time to see several of the party leading out the gualamas from the stables, already decked in their ornate bridles and saddles.

Palpatine brushed his gloved hand against the flank of a smaller, brown-flecked gelding that Sate brought to him. The creature's mind was simple and unmotivated, a perfect mount for his purposes. Many Naboo regarded the long-limbed mammals as graceful representations of Naboo's natural beauty, but he only saw witless animals. Animals had uses, but they certainly held no deeper meaning for him. If he did not need to wine and dine the new ambassador to create the future connection, then he would not have put up with such drivel.

"Do you like him, Senator?" The question came from his right, and he realized that Namita was at his side, her green eyes staring up with appreciation at the gualama's gentle face. In her own hands, she held the reins of a willowy white mare that cropped contentedly at the spare bits of grasses between the courtyard tiles.

"He strikes me as an honest fellow," Palpatine smiled. "I work well with that type." If she only knew… She would not quite meet his eyes as he watched her. _Is she already so frightened of me? Maybe the woman has more intelligence than I thought._ "Do you need assistance mounting?"

Her embarrassment was plain to see. "Actually, I haven't gone on a twirrling in some time. Thank you."

"Here," and he reached out to her waist and settled both hands on her hips, noting her thinness with almost clinical detachment. She blushed deeper and wrapped the reins tightly in her hands, and he released her to untangle them with a soft chuckle. "Ah, you don't want to be doing that. If she spooks, you'll be dragged under her."

"Oh, of course," her hands were shaking under his, and he slipped the long cords into her left palm.

"Just hold on to that. It only takes a little pressure to get her compliance. Now hang on," and he seized her waist again and lifted her onto the long white back. Namita settled awkwardly into the side saddle, clutching at the low pommel with a white-knuckled hand, and he suppressed a mocking laugh, turning away to pull himself into his own saddle.

Twirrling had been one of his few pleasures outside of racing when he was young. The thrill of the hunt had both satisfied his darker urges and formed him powerful alliances among his fellow nobles. He found that it bored him now, since he had been opened to a larger, grander world. _It's almost quaint,_ he pulled the gelding's head around to fall in alongside his future wife. The party began to form a gentle flow out of the courtyard's main entrance and into the fields. Sate rode on his other side, his narrow face pinched with longsuffering boredom. _He looks like I feel._

"Senator?"

By Korriban, she was speaking again. "Of course?" He increased the warmth of his smile as the gualamas rolled into an easy lope through the tall grasses. Ahead of them, the greysors were spreading out into the underbrush, a wide fan that bent the tall stalks in long and winding patterns.

"When… when we are married, will we be staying on Naboo, or…" she coughed and clung to the reins. "Or…?"

He caught snippets of her sentence from her unguarded mind. _Together? Apart? Coruscant?_ "After the wedding, I will be resuming my duties with the Galactic Senate. I planned to include you in that journey." Beside him, Sate shifted on his gualama and sighed. His assistant was no happier about the wedding than he was, though to his credit the advisor kept most of his thoughts to himself.

For a moment, she could not speak and her eyes shined bright with a disgustingly pure excitement. "To Coruscant? I've heard so many things about it. The variety, the art!" She was practically speaking over herself, tumbling her sentence fragments end over end. Pitiful.

"You like art?" he asked, tilting his head to watch as a distant greysor scuffed up a youthful quadduck, and half the party tore after it with wild cheers. He remained behind, content to watch and suspecting that his future wife might fall out of her own saddle if her gualama moved any faster.

"I love it!" she said, and the sudden passion that infused her voice startled him. He raised one eyebrow and saw her blush. She demurely lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry, but I've heard that the art on Coruscant is very different."

"From Naboo?" He returned her slow nod. "It is. The amount of free-thinkers in the Capital may astonish you. It is nothing like our world."

At her silence, he stretched out with the Force, and her satisfaction was obvious to see. Curious. He would have thought her the type to cling to her culture, her normal way of doing things, her whimpering status quo. Instead, she was looking forward to it. Palpatine's lips twitched. _I wonder if the backwater could be bred out of her. The accent on her Basic will need to go first if she frequents my social circles._ "Well, my lady, if that is enough to get your attention, I imagine you will enjoy it very much."

"I hope to," she said, her voice feathery with simultaneous apprehension and wondering delight.

 _She will be a quadduck among the greysors of the galaxy. I wonder how long the chase could possibly last? Best not to dwell on that one._ He spurred his gelding forward into a trot. "Come, my lady, the hunt awaits us."

x-x-x-x

 **DarthRuinous: The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain… Palpatine has quite the challenge cut out for him. At least he's taking it a little better with time. That's not saying much, especially since the wedding is on the horizon. Stay tuned!**


End file.
